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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 1 day

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 26

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.5K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

When you turned to investigate your surroundings, you found yourself standing on a patio. The balcony walls held planter boxes on each railing, overlooking the city. On the wall, sprawling up past the two large glass French doors, was winter ivy that you presumed had been growing for hundreds of years to reach its current height. The planter boxes had not yet been tended to for the oncoming spring, but based on the care taken to preserve the boxes and the soil inside, whoever would plant in them seemed to care for their garden quite a bit.

Azriel took a few steps in front of you, laying his palms on the door handles before turning over his shoulder to you. “Coming?” he asked.

You nodded as he swung the doors open. A blast of warm air shot out from the room, and you stepped into what looked to be a large office. With its dark oak desk nestled against the wall, stacks of books littered the floor around two oversized armchairs. At least, that’s what you presumed the purpose of the room was. Azriel walked through the room without much thought as you followed behind, your eyes stopping on books with titles like *The Archaic Guide to Fae Languages* and *A Complete Atlas of Prythian and the Charted World*. The walls of the office were filled with large bookshelves, overflowing with papers and old texts. Azriel opened the door of the office, leading out into a hallway filled with paintings you recognized as Feyre’s, lining the dark green paint of the wall. You followed Azriel down the hall.

“This is the townhouse,” he announced.

“Feyre and Rhysand's city home?” you clarified.

“Technically, yes, but they gifted it to me when Nesta and Cassian mated.” Azriel turned around the corner, his hand passing over the wall as he did, seemingly a habit.

“Oh,” you said. “I thought you just lived at the House of Wind.”

“I used to. But I felt like I was intruding on their time together.”

Azriel continued down the second hallway, which led to a grand staircase spiraling down into what looked to be the main hallway of the home.

He took the stairs in a rush, his feet fast and sure as you ran your hand down the railing, descending into the grand foyer. The black-and-white tiles lined the floor, and the entryway door was adorned with stained glass flowers. Their blues and purples easily identified the Night Court florals in the scene.

Azriel’s heels clicked down onto the tile floor as he walked to the front door, opening it slightly before turning back to look at you descending the stairs. He smiled lightly.

“Ready?”

You nodded slightly as you joined him in the entryway.

“Remember, just say the word and we leave.”

You nodded again, feeling your stomach tighten as the door widened into one of the wealthier streets of Velaris. Azriel stepped out, holding the door open for you to follow.

The street was quiet for the most part, save for the odd fae or couple who strolled leisurely down the sidewalk. You noticed the wrought iron short fencing on most of the front lawns, and more importantly, you took in the front lawns of the houses. That feature seemed wholly foreign to you in this place. You had no memories of any buildings having attached greenery to their houses, other than those in the parks.

Azriel shut the door behind you, joining you at the top of the white marble stairs leading down to the walkway. “Ready?” he asked again.

You nodded, and he descended the stairs quickly as you followed slowly behind him.

You walked down the street next to one another, your arms only barely grazing each other's as you walked. You said nothing, and Azriel seemed fine with the silence. You merely followed Azriel down the street of the great townhouse manors and around the corners to a few more streets of them. You felt foolish for thinking that the townhouse of the High Lord would be anything less than the most spectacular, grandiose home possible. Yet, you had it in your mind that Rhysand and Azriel chose to spend their time in smaller apartments like the rest of the citizens. How silly you were.

The homes slowly grew smaller, then into split-level homes, then into apartments. The gardens in front grew less grand and then ceased to exist. The closer you got into the city heart, the more citizens you began seeing.

Watching the citizens part for Azriel, some wishing him well and saying hello while others seemed to bow their heads, piqued your interest. It seemed as though everyone was more than willing to part their path to let the Shadowsinger through, as a few whispered. Most seemed to have a deep admiration and respect, but you wondered if any of it was tinged with fear. Fear at his wings and what they stood for, or recognition of his relation to other Illyrians. Perhaps, however, these people believed the Illyrians to be some sort of savior. The army was their main source of protection, after all, and once you pieced together the war with Hybern, you knew they were instrumental in Prythian not falling into the wrong hands. But at the same time, you weren’t the only one who had experienced the malice of the soldiers. Right?

Azriel continued down the street as the faint scent of food—particularly pastries and warm meats—wafted through the crisp winter air. As you turned another corner, you recognized the main town square of food vendors, and your mouth began to water instinctively. The butchery windows displayed large, glistening sausages, their savory aroma mingling with the air. You passed by bakeries showcasing delicate cakes, their frosting artfully swirled and tempting, adding to the rich, sugary scent that lingered around them.

It wasn’t until you passed a candy shop that you realized how hungry you truly were. The sweet scents of sugar and caramel wafted out the door, causing you to pause and inhale deeply, the familiar aroma evoking memories of simpler times. You closed your eyes, transported back to childhood, standing on tiptoes to peer through a large glass window. You could almost see the candy makers tossing long ropes of taffy onto a hook, chopping the hardened pieces into small meltaway treats. The memory blurred, uncertain if it was your mother or Titania beside you, pointing at the candies and dreaming of which ones you might choose. This uncertainty tainted the nostalgia, leaving a heaviness in your heart as you opened your eyes again.

Azriel had stopped, now standing nearly touching you, his concern evident as he looked down. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

“Just a few shops down, there’s a cafe I wanted to take you to for lunch.” He pointed down the street, your gaze lingering on the candy shop’s window. “But if you aren’t feeling up for it, we can head back,” he offered. “Or we could get something from here if you like?”

You shook your head, the memory of standing at the window enough. You had never actually gone inside to buy the candies, just dreamed about them from a distance. Perhaps you feared that reality might tarnish the sweetness of the memory. “It’s okay,” you said quietly. “We can keep going.”

Azriel placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb tracing soothing lines down your shoulder blade. His touch broke the spell of your recollection, and you looked up to meet his eyes. He smiled at you, “You’re doing great.”

You tried to return the smile, but it felt forced and weak.

Azriel turned and continued down the sidewalk, and you followed, the savory and sweet aromas still lingering in the air. Eventually, you arrived at a small cafe. The exterior, with its blue awning and small tables lining the sidewalk, promised a cozy atmosphere in the summer, but today it was deserted. Azriel led you through the doors into the cafe, where a warm rush of air welcomed you, banishing the chill from your bones.

Inside, the cafe was larger than it appeared from the outside, with a full bar offering an array of cocktails. The floor was a mosaic of black and white tiles that matched the black wrought-iron tables with their white marble tops. Strings of faelight illuminated the dining area, casting a warm, golden glow that invited you in. Azriel surveyed the room, spotting an open table in a quiet corner, and beckoned you to follow.

He reached the table and pulled out a chair for you, waiting as you awkwardly shrugged off your coat, suddenly conscious of your stained dress and unkempt hair. As you sat, Azriel gently pushed your chair in before settling into his own seat across from you. The wrought-iron chairs easily accommodated his wings, which spread behind him like a protective shield. A waitress appeared swiftly, smiling warmly at Azriel, who returned the gesture as she handed you both menus.

You laid your menu flat on the table, eyes scanning the options: breakfast foods, hearty sandwiches, delectable pastries, soups, and salads. Azriel glanced at his menu briefly before setting it down with a satisfied nod. “I always get the same thing,” he said with a knowing grin.

You nodded absently, still deciding what might sit best in your uneasy stomach. Azriel looked over his shoulder at the window, watching pedestrians pass by. Some peered in, their eyes widening as they recognized the Illyrian who now sat casually, tea in hand, his leg draped over the other.

Eventually, you settled on a cream of potato soup, hoping its warmth would ease both your hunger and your nerves. Azriel ordered a sandwich, but your heart pounded so loudly in your ears that you couldn’t catch the details. You took deep, steadying breaths, willing yourself to hold it together in the cafe’s comforting ambiance.

The waitress returned to collect the menus, and Azriel handed his over with a smile. As he turned back to you, concern etched itself into his features. He leaned across the table, one hand covering yours, which were clenched tightly together. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You gulped and nodded, trying to reassure him.

“Just say the word,” he reminded you, his gaze unwavering.

You shook your head, your fingers loosening slightly.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his arms crossed casually, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

You glanced up at him from under your lashes, licking your dry, cracked lips before shrugging your shoulders.

“There’s something,” he persisted, leaning in, his forearms braced on the table. “Your eyes are more expressive than you might think.”

You looked down at your hands, now resting in your lap, suddenly anxious about what Azriel might discern from your gaze.

“I’d pay a lot to know what’s going on up there.” Azriel motioned to your head with a slight tilt.

You chuckled softly, “I don’t think you’d like what you’d find.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted with a warm smile. “But I’d still love to know.”

His face was soft, his eyes inviting, almost pleading for a glimpse into your thoughts.

You shook your head lightly. “There’s a lot of darkness in there,” you murmured.

Azriel opened his hands, palms up, before closing them gently. “I’ve always thrived in darkness.”

“Yes, you and your shadows,” you replied flatly.

“So you’ve heard about them,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve overheard things,” you admitted.

Azriel nodded. “You’re perceptive.”

You shrugged again.

“Do you want to know more about them?” Azriel asked, his tone inviting.

You considered for a moment, curiosity battling with weariness. “How do they work?” you asked finally.

Azriel glanced upwards, searching for the right words. “They’re like crows,” he began. “They gather information, bringing it back to me. Sometimes they help me stay hidden.”

“Do you control them?” you asked.

Azriel flicked his fingers, and two dark shadows materialized on the table, their form shifting as they scurried towards you, weaving through your fingers. Their cool touch sent a shiver down your spine, and a reluctant smile curved your lips.

“I can encourage them,” Azriel explained, watching as the shadows danced across the table and slipped back to his side. “But they have minds of their own.”

“Is it always the same ones?” you asked, watching the shadows disappear into the corners of the cafe.

“It’s usually a core group of twelve. Some come and go, but those twelve have been with me since I was a child.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Can all shadows do that?”

Azriel looked around, observing the other shadows in the room. “No. They might look like shadows, but they’re different creatures. They resemble shadows and live in them, but they’re unique.”

You recalled moments in the woods when shadows seemed to move oddly, almost sentient. “Did you ever—” you began, but the waitress returned, setting your food down. Azriel thanked her quietly, motioning for you to eat.

You lifted your spoon, dipping it into the creamy soup. The first taste enveloped your tongue with warmth, soothing you like sinking into a cozy bed after a day in the snow. You continued to eat, savoring each spoonful, while Azriel watched with a soft smile, taking tentative bites of his sandwich.

When you finished, nearly licking the bowl clean, you set the spoon down with a clink. Your stomach, now filled with comforting warmth, left you momentarily content. But guilt soon crept in, a reminder that while you enjoyed this meal, Kai was gone. The joy turned sour, your stomach churning with the weight of your loss. You pushed the bowl away, contemplating whether the guilt would make you sick. Azriel, sensing the shift, reached across the table to cover your hand. “I’m really glad to see you eating,” he said softly.

You tried to smile back at him, the gesture tight and unconvincing. But Azriel’s eyes held understanding, seeing through the facade to the turmoil beneath.

Azriel seemed to finish eating only moments before you did, and he promptly signaled the waitress over. She collected the dishes and, with a bright smile, insisted that Azriel not pay for the meal. A playful argument ensued between them, Azriel’s lips quirking into a bemused smile as he raised his hands in mock defeat. The waitress walked away, still smiling, but as soon as her back was turned, Azriel stood up and discreetly left more than enough coins on the table.

He turned to you, his eyes softening with a gentle warmth, and helped you into your jacket. His touch was tender as he carefully pulled your hair out from the collar, his scarred fingers grazing the soft skin of your neck. His touch lingered there, light and reassuring, sending a faint shiver through you.

Once you were settled, he motioned towards the door, his voice a soothing balm against the winter’s chill. “I think that’s enough for one day,” he said softly. “Let’s head home.”

To my readers, thank you for all your support. More to come soon. @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian @loglady00

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shadowdaddies · 1 month

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Overheard

Azriel x Reader angst → smut

based on this request

warnings: smut below the cut, exhibitionism

“Have a good night,” you murmured to Feyre, pulling away from her hug as you gave one final wave to the other females in the room and turned in search of your mate.

Cassian’s deep laughter boomed from the drawing room, and you smiled as you followed the sounds of his and Rhys’s sounds of jest, sure that was where your mate would be as well.

“A threesome?” Azriel’s voice cut through the room, stopping you in your tracks. Heart pounding in your chest, your cheeks flushed with deep embarrassment as Azriel continued.

“You think she would be interested in a threesome?” he asked again, incredulous at what seemed to be Rhys’s suggestion by his response.

“I’ve offered the idea to Feyre before - it’s certainly an option to spice things up if you’re bored,” the High Lord purred.

Chest caving in on itself, you could feel the weight of your heart crumbling inward at everything you’d overheard. The thought that you weren’t enough for your mate brought tears to your eyes, guilt and worry wracking through your body.

Azriel was the first and only person you had ever had sex with, but he’d never made you feel insecure about it until now. Biting your lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, you made intentionally loud steps towards the drawing room and listened to the conversation stop.

Peering your head around the doorway, you forced pleasant smile as you tried to look at Azriel and failed, gaze falling to focus on the siphons at his shoulders instead.

Willing your most even voice, you managed to ask Azriel if he was ready to go home in what you hoped was convincing calm. With a subdued nod to Rhys and Cassian, you turned away from them without waiting and exited to the balcony.

The cool night air was a balm against your heated cheeks, damp lashes drying from the gentle breeze. “Is everything alright?” Azriel questioned softly, a scarred hand resting gently between your shoulder blades as he came to stand behind you.

“Fine, Az,” you eked out, granting him a curt nod before turning to help him lift you into his arms. “I’m just tired,” you lied, and while Azriel sensed it, he said nothing before holding you to his chest and shooting into the sky towards home.

Days passed with the same tension, Azriel’s very touch reminding you of how unsatisfying yours was to him. You curled up on the far side of the mattress at night, cold sending shivers down your spine despite the heated hazel gaze at your back, silently begging for answers to your avoidance.

But each time those golden eyes found yours and you found yourself yearning for Azriel’s touch, you were quickly drawn back into yourself and your apparent inadequacy. If Azriel would not talk to you about his desires in the bedroom, then you wouldn’t speak to him about what you had heard.

A week passed of the same routine - mumbled pleasantries and cold bedsheets - when you stood before the mirror, applying the finishing touches to your makeup before family dinner at the River House.

“You look beautiful,” Az murmured shyly from where he stood in the doorway. For a spymaster, he was incredibly clueless as to what he’d done wrong to deserve your distance this week. “Are you alright to go to dinner? We could stay here and talk, just the two of us.”

Biting back the bitter laugh that threatened to bubble out, your eyes slid to his through the reflection of the mirror. “No, Azriel, I’m perfectly happy to go to dinner.”

Your shoulder barely brushed his arm as you twisted through the doorway, slipping outside without bothering to see if he followed. Stepping into the cool evening breeze, you found only a moment of relief before the realization hit you that Azriel would need to carry you to fly.

With a frown, you looked over your shoulder to see your mate watching you with amused interest, hands tucked into his pockets as he shifted his wings playfully.

“Since you’re so intent on avoiding me, do you intend to walk to dinner? It should only take you a few hours... I could save you a plate,” he teased, mirthful eyes glittering in the glow of the setting sun.

“Or, you could let me fly you there?” he asked, arms outstretched, a satisfied smile stretching across his face to match as you begrudgingly stomped toward him and looped your arms around his neck.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, warm breath fanning your neck in a way that reminded you just how untouched you felt. Warm hands wrapped around the back of your legs, and you were lifted effortlessly, cradled into the toned heat of Az’s chest.

Taking off into the sky, Azriel loosed a defeated sigh when you turned your head away from him once more and opted to focus on the burning embers of the sun sinking over the mountains.

With the River House in sight, the tension in your body only grew as you were forced to remember last week - the males’ conversation that was the very reason for your current ire - unsure how you could put on a normal facade for this dinner.

Setting you down gently on the grass, Azriel tucked his wings in behind him, but as you turned to head into the house, his hand wrapped around yours in silent request. “Please talk to me,” he pleaded, voice rough with unspoken emotion.

Turning over your shoulder, you felt his guilt - and furthermore, his need - through the bond, striking you dumb. Gaze focused on you, touch hot against your own, you nearly caved to your desire for Azriel right there when the front door swung open.

“Come on in, we’re waiting on you!” Cassian hollered from the entry, effectively shattering the building tension as you recoiled into yourself once more.

“Come on, Az,” you muttered, locking your fingers with his as you plastered on a fake smile and led him into the foyer where Rhys and Feyre stood smiling.

Giving them each warm hugs, you feigned a pleasant manner as best you could before wrapping an arm around Azriel’s bicep - the most eager you had been to touch him all week - and his eyes flickered with something like anger at the motion.

“Excuse us, we need to have a talk,” Azriel growled out, his attempt at remaining civil much weaker than yours as he pulled you back towards the same drawing room you’d overheard him in last week.

“Go ahead and start eating without us,” Azriel called over a shoulder, just before Cassian and Mor could voice their complaints.

Shadows swirled around you, pushing the door closed with a click as Azriel’s arms caged either side of your head. “You can be angry with me all you want - I won’t stop you from processing whatever you need to feel in your own time - but we will not fake this relationship. I won’t pretend like everything is fine when it isn’t, and touch you in front of my family when you haven’t wanted to be near me all week.”

Your heart tumbled at his words, guilt weighing on you at the thought of showing your mate love that was anything less than the pure adoration you felt for him. But those feelings were quickly quelled as you remembered where you were, and your fierce gaze lifted to the shadowsinger’s.

“You won’t be ‘fake,’ is that it?” you taunted, chest heaving at the sheer anger you finally released after bottling it up for too long. “You won’t touch me in front of your family, because cauldron forbid they know something is wrong, but you would talk to your brothers about our sex life?”

Confusion flashed across Azriel’s face before shifting to anger that matched yours, his hands flexing against the wood behind you in an attempt to leash his ire. “What are you talking about?”

With a disbelieving scoff, you gestured dramatically to the room where he’d sat last time you were here. “I heard you, Azriel. Last week at dinner, you asked Rhys and Cassian if they thought I would be interested in a threesome. You never mentioned that to me, never even hinted that you might be ‘bored’ like Rhys said. You couldn’t talk to me, but you could talk to them?”

Your voice broke on the last words, too hurt to speak anymore. How could you trust your mate if he told others you weren’t good enough, and wouldn’t even tell you?

“Hey,” Azriel murmured, his voice much gentler as scarred hands cupped your cheeks, thumb wiping at a stray tear that had escaped. With a deep sigh, Az bent to press a kiss to your forehead, resting there for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“My brothers are idiots,” he growled. “Rhys and Feyre like to bring others into the bedroom on occasion, and he was only teasing that they’d be interested in joining us.”

Pulling away, Azriel looked down at you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak, one hand tucking under your chin to tilt your face to his. “I have never, ever found sex with you to be boring.” He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him at the thought.

“We were made for each other,” he whispered, lips hovering against your own. He released your chin in favor of sliding his hands down your body, resting on your waist where his thumbs rubbed soft circles against the fabric of your dress.

“You make me feel like nothing, no one, ever has before,” he breathed, the scent of your combined arousals dizzying. Your head fell back against the wood of the door, legs parting in silent plea for more of his touch that you’d been missing.

“I’m sorry, Az. I should have asked you before assuming,” you apologized, lips capturing his in a messy, quick kiss. “And now that you’ve explained, I’m not upset if bringing in Rhys is something you’d like to talk about.”

Shadows swirled erratically over Azriel’s shoulders, grip turning firm on your hips. “I am not interested in sharing you with Rhys, or any other male, for that matter,” he ground out, body pressing yours firmly against the door. “But since Rhys is so interested in our sex life, I’m happy to show him how not-boring it is.”

A knee pushed your legs open, scarred hands lifting your hips to settle your heat across Azriel’s thigh while shadows bunched your dress skirts up to your waist.

“I want you to be loud for me, love. Let them hear those pretty moans,” Az murmured against your neck. Onyx waves tickled your skin as warm lips tracked down your jaw, neck, chest. Pushing down the straps of your dress, he groaned at the sight of your breasts as they sprang free, skilled fingers teasing and twisting your nipples in tandem with your hips rolling needily against his quickly-dampening pant leg.

“Please,” you whispered, hands struggling to find purchase in your mate’s hair. “I need you now.”

“As my mate wishes,” Azriel murmured, undoing the ties of his pants before lining himself up at your entrance.

Cock rubbing through your slick folds, you mewled at the feeling of his tip brushing your clit, breathless as your lips parted at the stretch of him slowly pushing inside of you. Azriel held you suspended against the wall, his length speared impossibly deep inside of you while shadows roamed your body, cool wisps of air teasing places only they and their master knew.

“You are so beautiful,” Azriel whispered, chasing your lips with his own as he pulled out slowly, only to thrust sharply back inside of you.

A moan tore through your body, hand flying to your mouth instinctively to muffle the obscene sounds. Eyes gleaming with feral delight, Azriel tutted in disapproval.

“I told you, I want everyone to hear those pretty noises,” he teased as dark tendrils wound around your wrists and pulled them taut above your head.

“Don’t hold back,” was his only warning before Azriel started pounding up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you bounced limply on him, the pleasure too much to think of anything else.

You couldn’t hear so much as feel moans and mewls leaving your throat, raw sounds of pleasure echoing through the space as you neared your climax. Back bowed against the wooden door, your eyes shuttered at the feeling of Azriel’s thumb on your clit, sending you spiraling into a blinding orgasm.

Legs shook, and you thanked the Mother for a strong mate who held you as the last of your high wracked through your body, leaving you weak and satiated. Azriel moaned, sweat lining his brow as your mate’s cock twitched inside of you, warmth flowing into you when he hit his own high.

Sweaty limbs tangled with each other, euphoric smiles plastered on both of your faces while you collapsed to the floor in Azriel’s arms.

“You’re right,” you whispered softly against his chest. “I don’t know how I believed that could be boring.” Azriel laughed loudly at that, his hand affectionately threading through your hair as he pressed his lips to your head.

“No, I can’t imagine ever getting tired of you,” he swore, voice soft as velvet. Slowly, you both stood and pulled on your clothes, giggling at your weak attempts to look presentable - everyone knew what you did, after all.

Walking back down the hall to the dining room, you turned the corner to find everyone at the table staring at you with varying levels of shock and amusement. Azriel’s hand found your lower back, your mate the picture of nonchalance as he guided you to your normal seats and began loading your plates with food.

You looked around to see they hadn’t eaten much, eyes flicking to Mor who swirled her wine across the table. “You haven’t started eating?” you questioned softly, reaching for your own glass of water.

Red lips curved into a wry smile. “No, I don’t think many of us have the appetite anymore,” the blonde teased, arching a brow as honey eyes flicked between you and Azriel.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you struggled for words when Azriel spoke up for you. “Well, we have worked up quite the appetite,” he drawled, sending you a wink that had the table laughing and silverware chiming as everyone continued with the meal.

Pulling apart a piece of bread from your plate, you felt a warm, familiar hand slide dangerously close along your inner thigh. The scent of cedar and mist invaded your senses as Azriel leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Make no mistake, I will be having dessert when we get home,” he teased, squeezing your skin softly before turning back to his food.

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thewulf · 29 days

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Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

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utterlyotterlyx · 3 months

Text

Skin and Bones

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary - Cassian barely knew who you were let alone your affections toward him. Determined to not play the Lord of Bloodshed's puppy, you kept quiet, silently waiting for the Mother to give you your chance. But, one Starfall, everything changes.

Warnings - pining, fluff, alcohol use, swearing

Based of this ask

The teasing had become a common occurrence.

It wasn't often that you left the confinements of The Library, but when you did, for whatever reason that would be, you'd always find yourself in the same place as the Lord of Bloodshed, and his mere presence encapsulated your attention enough to shush to to complete silence.

Cassian was a god-like specimen, the curves of his taut, trained muscle contorting with each movement, his hair pulled back into a well-maintained bun with slices falling over his face that faded down the sides to that impeccable beard ; he was ruggedly handsome, rough-hewn with sun-kissed golden skin, and brown-green eyes that made you weak whenever they passed over you.

He had only spoken to you twice, once when he asked if you were alright after you had dropped a stack of books upon seeing him, little did he know that you weren't just some clumsy researcher, but that you were awestruck upon seeing that carved from the mountains complexion and those large membranous wings. The other time he had spoken to you was to ask for a book that Amren needed, a request you had quickly granted, your giddiness drifting like ash in the wind when he took the book from your grasp with a small thanks and looked right through you.

Other than those two instances, Cassian hadn't spoken to you, it was like you didn't even exist to him.

You weren't the most ongoing female, you didn't find joy in sauntering about the room and throwing yourself onto any male who deemed you worthy enough. You were reserved. You were quiet to all but the ones who truly knew you well enough to say that you were by far the most complex thing in all of Velaris.

And that was saying something.

"He's never going to notice you when you hole yourself up in the corner like that," Mari drawled, rolling her eyes at you as you had, yet again, found Cassian laughing thunderously across the room and set your sights on him, "Go and talk to him."

Your friends had consistently tried to convince you to talk to him, to try and give you the confidence you needed to walk right up to the Lord of Bloodshed and tell him exactly how you felt.

"How long are you going to look at him until you just do it?" Rita's was teething with thumping music and swirling talk, it was the night of Starfall, and the entire of Velaris had moved from their own private celebrations to dance and drink the night away at the city's favourite bar.

Not taking your eyes off of him as he stood between his brothers, laughing like a giddy child with his white canines shining in the glittering light, you told Sia, "As long as I need to."

Sia scoffed, pushing her moon white hair back over her shoulder and allowing her silver gaze to tear into you, "Not good enough, Y/N."

Humming in agreement, Mari leaned over the white marble table and grasped you chin in her delicate fingers, "You look insane tonight. Don't waste it by sitting in that corner. Even the High Lady doesn't outshine you in that dress," Mari's dark pools of onyx and blue winked, her voice was as soft as summer rain.

"I'm not going to be a puppy that chases him around-"

"It'll happen when it happens and all of that crap," Sia waved her hand, reciting your weekly words, "And looking at him like that every time is doing what exactly?" Heat crept up your cheeks and you scowled, "Come on, we're dancing," Sia sank her drink, the delightfully tropical concoction that was once in her glass dissipating, "I'm not asking."

Mari was right. You did look incredible.

Red fabric doused in diamonds clung to every curve and shimmered in the faelight with every movement you took, an off-the-shoulder neckline which highlighted the hollowness of your collarbones, a high slit that reached your right thigh, matching lace gloves that kissed your elbows. Absolute perfection.

With a sigh, you slid your covered hand into Sia's who wasted no time in hauling you up and dragging you through a sea of intoxicated bodies to the centre of the dancefloor, just in case you changed your mind. Caging in the little mouse with no means of escape.

They were lucky to have been able to convince you to treat yourself for once, to buy a new dress and put makeup on, to give yourself something to look forward to. Sia and Mari knew how lonely The Library could be, though of course knew that you didn't mind one bit, you loved what you did, it had enabled you to travel the world and find things no male ever could. It was always about perspective, you had told them.

Sia placed her hands on your waist, making you sway to the beat of the music with her, your bodies moving like a ripple down the Sidra. Light fell over you, drifting through the crowd who were becoming lost in the thumping melodies, falling victim to the alcohol in their systems. It was Starfall, how couldn't they?

Your friend reached behind you, pulling the pin from your delicately wound updo, allowing your hair to flow down your spine and smiling as you ran your fingers through it, twirling around and feeling every hit of bass reverberate through your body.

Too busy losing yourself in the moment, you didn't feel a certain gaze floating over your figure, drinking in your large smile and giggles as you danced, drinking in the curve of your breasts and hips, "Who are you looking at?" Mor appeared next to him, swaying slightly from the amount of alcohol she had drank, crouching beneath his chin like it would help her focus on who had stolen his attention. "Oh, please tell me you're looking at Y/N."

"Y/N?" Cassian asked, puzzled, he tilted his head to the side, looking at your closer, the pretty eyes and soft features, the pure joy as you jumped to the music with your friend.

"Y/N? Prythian's most accomplished researcher?" Mor barked incredulously, in disbelief that anyone could have the gall to not know who the female was, "She's the most impressive person I've ever met."

"More impressive than me?" Cassian smirked at the golden-haired blonde, it was suggestive, it was teasing, it earnt him a sharp jab to the arm, "Ow," he rubbed over the clothed patch of skin, enjoying the feel of the silk black shirt he had decided to adorn that night.

"Way more impressive than you, Lord of Bloodshed," Mor finished the last of her drink and leaned into him, "I'm surprised you haven't noticed her before, she's always helping Azriel and Amren out with whatever they need."

That's it. Y/N.

Cassian knew who you were. The ditzy researcher that worked within the library in the River House, the one who had gotten that book for him one time, the one who had dropped a stack of tomes on her toes and repressed the squeal until she'd gone red in the face.

But surely that female wasn't you. You looked- you looked so radiant, practically glowing like a star in a sea of darkness, completely different to the grey-blue tunic pants you wore alongside a thick black woven jumper that drowned you.

"That's Y/N?" Cassian asked, shocked, narrowing his eyes on you when Mor nodded, "But, I've barely even noticed her, she's so quiet."

Azriel laughed then, loudly too, one that rumbled through his chest as he clasped Cassian's shoulder, "Y/N is not quiet," he told his brother, looking to you fondly, "She's the loudest thing ever actually, funny too."

"I've never heard her. I've barely noticed her existence."

Mor reached a finger out and flicked the pendent dangling from his neck, "Because she's not loud when you're around, silly."

A beat passed and Azriel let out a small, knowing, "Oh," like a lightbulb had flashed on in his brain, the penny dropping in his mind, and a shit-eating grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

"What?" Cassian asked, his gaze flickering between Azriel and Mor who were silently communicating with their eyes.

Mor smiled, "I think you should go and talk to her, say hi, happy starfall and all of that stuff," Mor gave him little option, pushing him from their ledge and onto the dancefloor.

Cassian rolled his shoulders and turned to Mor and Azriel with a scowl, they had taken a step closer to one another, whispering between themselves.

She was right though, he should be polite and wish you a happy starfall. Adjusting the open collar of his silk shirt, he moved through the crowd that parted like the Sidra before him until he saw a straight line guiding him to you.

Your friend saw him coming and dipped her head to him before taking a step back, smirking to herself at your complete unawareness of the situation as you twirled back to where you thought she was, only to meet a wall of rock hard muscle and wings that cast a shadow over you.

Dark amber, smoke, and cloves stung their way down your nose and into your lungs, it was the deepest breath you had ever taken. Those brown-green eyes that stalked your dreams were now peering down on you with splendid wonder, his entire figure curled around you, and you felt your heart beating a mile a minute.

"Hi," his voice was low and rough, his breath smelt like aged whisky, and his entire body heat made you feel like your skin was on fire, "Y/N, right?"

It took you a moment to respond, "Yeah," you replied, gravity shifting around you and the music dimming into a hum in your ears.

Cassian grinned, "I'm Cassian."

"I know who you are," the movement of your lips had him entranced, like they were moving in slow motion, he watched them peel from one another, he watched the movement of your tongue with every sweet syllable that moved through them.

It wasn't often that Cassian found himself speechless, it wasn't often that he stood before such an accomplished female and knew little to nothing about her, "Mor mentioned that you're a researcher, that you help Amren and Azriel sometimes. How come I know nothing about you?"

His eyes were hypnotising, "You've never looked long enough."

Cassian smiled, eyes glistening with approval as he took a step forward, laying a hand on you waist and sending an electrifying current over every inch of your skin, "Maybe I should."

You hummed, "Maybe it's time you did," you were doing everything you could to keep your soul from trembling, to keep your voice calm and stoic, to throw that confident façade up like a shield.

His finger, as rough and calloused as you had dreamed it would be, took a strand of hair and pushed it over your shoulder, his fingers grazing your collarbone on their retreat. "Dance with me?"

You spent the remainder of the night in his arms, dancing with him to the music, allowing his large hands to roam your body and ask questions about you that no one had ever bothered to.

It happened to be the most magical Starfall that either of you had ever celebrated.

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 months

Text

Pregnancy (ft. Poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: none

You’re actually surprised it takes you so long to become pregnant (ya know considering that all three of them just rail into you multiple times a day lol)

When you start feeling like actual shit day in and day out, Rhys had Madja come over to evaluate you

And what do you know! You got a bun in the oven!

Cue your mates happily freaking out that there’s going to be a baby

They don’t even ask or question who the father is in the beginning. It’s too soon to do any paternity tests

Rhysand and Cassian become the nesters; prepping the nursery, hiring a fleet of nannies and guards for the precious heir

There was a dangerous side effect to being pregnant with one of the Bat Boy's babies were the powers it gave you. Hormone induced powers

You were stronger but more cautious around people, even your mates, and easy to snap; all to protect the precious life growing inside you.

Outside of the Inner Circle, no one else knows. Your pregnancy is kept secret for the first few months (though Cass wants to shout from the top of the House of Wind that he’s gonna be a daddy)

This is done mainly because you rue when the lords of the Court of Nightmares find out

The rest of the realm may rejoice, but the Court of Nightmares has always sneered your way and thought of you as a glorified whore

You knew they’d insist immediately on a paternity test. They would not bend the knee to a child that was not of Rhysand’s blood. If the father of your first born happened to be Cassian or Azriel, there could be a fight back

Once news of your pregnancy is released, there was a type of press conference below in the nightmare court

Like all of you predicted, they raise a big stink about paternity

A child of the spy master or the general would not be accepted on the throne

A glimpse of Rhysand's beast form shuts them up. Azriel's shadows aid in emphasizing the massive power they had compared to all of the fae in the room

"Fate destined her as our mate. Whoever the child truly belongs to is inconsequential. Any child birthed from her is worthy of the Night Court throne."

When Azriel isn’t doing work for Rhysand, he is glued to your side or has a shadow following you. He’s especially concerned since he heard talk of murdering you and your unborn baby. A threat like that would not be taken lightly.

All three of your mates love placing their hands on your belly, anticipating a reaction from the baby

Cassian is determined to get the baby to kick for him

I think they would just become puddly, mushy, dads to be.

The Bat Boys wish their respective mothers were alive to share in this joy

Because their big boys, unfortunately that means your baby will be a big one if the size of your tummy was any indication

Midnight snackies provided by the Wraiths without prompting. They know all of your favorite foods

Amren bets the baby belongs to Rhys

Mor thinks its Az

You actually bet it’s Cass’ due to how active the baby is. Constantly kicking you and the funny fact that the baby would REFUSE to kick against Cassian’s hand. Az and Rhys have gotten the baby to kick for them

When the baby has grown large enough inside of you, a paternity test is conducted just for the sake of the Inner Circle's curiosity. You don't want to know the results. Besides, once the baby is born, you'll know.

The dreams you'd been having recently were of a small boy, a mix of features that came from each of your mates. Rhysand's eyes. Cassian's unruly, long hair. Azriel's massive wings that had whisps of shadows clinging to them.

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illyrianbitch · 5 months

Text

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway.

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy.

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air, "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

"I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice.

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

"You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up."

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch.

"Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod.

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

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honeybeefae · 2 months

Text

Strawberry Wine (Tamlin x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY ELEVEN: APHRODISIACS

Summary// Calanmai was something you knew about but never took part in, preferring to stay on the sidelines or at home. It would be your luck that tonight, right at the Great Rite began, you would get picked right as you tried to sneak away. Before you can refuse, a sweet-tasting wine is given to you that makes your mind fuzzy, thighs clench, and Tamlin look better than ever.

(I said I was picking back up on Kinktober and in celebration of Earth Day, why not celebrate with the High Lord of Spring? This is my first time writing for Tamlin, and I’m lowkey excited! I hope you all like it <3)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+. Aphrodisiac Usage (so Dubcon), Biting, Slight Breeding Kink,

You have attended almost every Calanmai since reaching your maidenhood but always stayed in the dark. Watching your friends and others drink and be merry, giving back to the land and magic was fun, but you were the notorious wallflower.

Of course, you fantasized just as much as the other maidens about getting picked to help Tamlin in the Great Rite. It was always an honor to be picked, but after everything that happened over the last few years, this Rite was important. It would be the ultimate test of whether Tamlin could remain High Lord. If he could produce enough magic to heal the land…and hopefully himself.

Working as one of the servants in his house, you saw firsthand how Feyre and Hybern had made him a shell of his former self. Whispers of his weakening power were heard in every corner of the house. You hadn’t been under him when everything had happened, only the aftermath, but it hurt you to see someone so low.

Even if it were his own choices that led him to that place.

As the drums sound out, signaling the beginning of the Rite, you awake from your thoughts and begin to weave through the crowd. You did dream about being picked, but given the circumstances now, you pity the girl who was chosen. She was as much as responsible as Tamlin in the ritual.

Fire dances along the cave walls as you murmur apologies, trying to squeeze past the crowd that only seems to get louder and louder. A cool breeze whisps past you, almost as if it were trying to whisper something, but before you can focus on it, you feel a rough, calloused hand grasp your wrist.

“You.”

Time freezes along with your body as you recognize the rough, low voice. All eyes are on you, taking in every detail of your body as they try to decipher what made you stand out before they all come to their senses and cheer.

Tamlin doesn’t wait for your excuses that were already building on your tongue, turning back to stalk further into the cave that you had only seen in the darkest corners of your mind. You swallow, wondering if you could turn to dash, but before you can, several hands start to push you forward.

Your stomach lurches, and your vision blurs as you stand before several friends, family, and fellow court members. One of them, an elder, smiles warmly at you and holds up a single gold goblet. She whispers something akin to a prayer, though it is so loud you can barely hear her, before she brings the cup to your lips.

“Wait, please,” You raise your hand to push it away, staring at her pleadingly. “I’m not the right one. I was leaving. I’m the wrong girl.”

“Fate is never wrong, young maiden.” She hums, her fingers brushing away your stray hairs. “Drink. You will feel better.”

And despite every alarm bell going off in your head, you obediently open your mouth. It was as if she put a spell on you. The drink, a sweet wine that tastes faintly of strawberries, goes down your throat easily. Your tastebuds seem to explode at the richness of the alcohol, craving more as you grab the goblet yourself and tip it all the way back.

There were chuckles behind you as you frown into the empty cup, looking back up to the woman only to realize she looks slightly fuzzy. In fact, now that you think about it, everything seems blurry.

A warmth blossoms in your belly that makes you sigh, your eyelashes fluttering as the heat goes further down. You’re distantly aware that you are in public and should definitely not be rubbing your thighs together like you’re doing, but the shame is nowhere to be found. In fact, the only thing you can feel is desire.

“What’s…what’s happening to me?” You mumble, mouth going dry as the woman takes your hand and guides you to where Tamlin had gone.

“It’s an aphrodisiac, my dear. Something to lower your inhibitions and anxiety. It will allow more magic to flow through you and into the Earth.” She explains. You know it makes sense. A lot of people are held back by their own fears and cannot access their full potential.

The light dims the further you go until you feel her let go of your hand. You want to protest, to turn and run, but something otherworldly seems to push you forward until you see a small campfire flickering. The people you heard cheering and singing earlier had fallen silent, the air itself stilling as you peek around the corner to see the man waiting for you.

However, in the state he was in, you would describe him as more savage than man. His clothes were all but shredded, symbols painted onto his skin that seemed to glow as his hair fell out of its braids. You couldn’t see his face but knew his pupils were dilated, his canines probably sharper and longer.

“I can smell you,” Tamlin growls, turning his body so that his intense gaze meets your eyes. “I picked you out immediately.”

“I can smell you too…” You whisper, the wine heightening most of your senses as the scent of cedar, rain, and faint honeysuckles fills your nose. It makes your mouth water. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this. She gave me-”

Suddenly Tamlin was in front of you, your eyes immediately falling to his hard cock before he grasps your chin and pulls it up so that he could look into your eyes. There is a wide range of emotions, but the most dominant one is anger.

Anger?

“What did they give you?” His jaw clenches as he turns your face from side to side, taking in your glassy eyes and disheveled appearance. “They gave you the wine, didn’t they?”

“Why are you angry?” You skip over his question, raising your fingers to smooth over the frown lines on his forehead.

“Forgive me for not being thrilled that you are currently under drugs in order to sleep with me.” He snaps, pulling away from your touch. “I would never take advantage of you like this. And for them to think that you needed this…that no one would…”

You might be out of it, but you could feel the pain in his words. He didn’t know about the wine. His mind was spiraling, not only for your safety but also for the fact that his court members thought no one would want him anymore. That this was something they would have to force someone to do.

It confirmed all the worst things he thought of himself and his court.

But you weren’t forced here, not truly. Of course, you were hesitant at the beginning because you had never done something like this before, but now that you were here…you were sure that even without the aphrodisiacs, you would still feel this yearning.

This was sudden and not how you expected the night to go, but you weren’t upset. In fact, it was something you had been dreaming about. You hated seeing Tamlin holed away, to see how broken he was. You just wanted to heal him.

“Tamlin…” You say softly, taking the same approach one would do for an injured predator. “Tamlin, look at me.”

He does, and it damn near breaks you. All the pain, sorrow, anger, disappointment, grief, it was drowning him.

“This may not make sense because my mouth feels numb,” You smile, cracking a joke. “But first of all, please understand no one is forcing me here. I know I could leave any time, I know I could have refused the wine, I know what this means, and I chose it.”

“But-” He starts to protest, but you hold up your hand and smush your finger against his lips.

“Shhh, listen to me,” You soothe. “I cannot imagine what is inside your brain right now. The pressure, the memories, it sounds like hell. Just…let’s just forget about it tonight. Let this be the distraction you need, the healing this land needs, and tomorrow, we can worry about the rest.”

Tamlin gazes down at you, green eyes holding you still as he cups your face with shaky hands. The wind picks up around you, tickling your thighs and arms, before it pushes you forward and up to meet his plush lips.

Somewhere, distantly, you swear you hear fireworks going off as you immediately return the kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing your body impossibly closer as his fingers thread through your hair. His warmth only adds to yours, making you feel like an inferno as you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip teasingly.

You meant what you said about tonight being a distraction. You are going to take full advantage of sleeping with the High Lord.

His chest rumbles with a growl that resonates to your core, pulling away for a brief moment to look you over before he claims your mouth once more. This time, it is much more passionate. Teeth clash, his once gentle fingers in your hair become a harsh grasp as he pulls your head to one side to expose your neck and shoulders.

“Cauldron save me,” He whispers into your skin, peppering open-mouth kisses to the column of your throat. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve craved this.”

“Likewise-ah!” You yelp as he bites down on your shoulder, just hard enough to make you wince. This doesn’t deter him. Instead, it spurs him on as he lifts you up effortlessly and pushes you against the cold cave wall.

“Look at you, petal,” Tamlin smirks as he cups your face again, running his thumb across your flush cheeks. “And we’ve barely even begun.”

“Please,” Your voice is high and needy as you feel his cock rut up against you, your panties already soaked through. “Please, I need more.”

He clicks his tongue and slips one of his hands between your bodies, his eyes screwing shut as he feels just how wet you are. You moan loudly when he shoves your underwear to the side and teases your cunt, brushing over your clit before shallowly dipping two fingers inside.

“Tamlin!” You groan, resting your head against the wall as he chuckles.

“Trust me, I want to bury myself as deep as I can inside this delicious pussy,” He moans, pushing his fingers in deeper to stretch you out. “But I have to make sure I won’t hurt you. I want you to take all of me, love. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Hearing him use such crass language only makes your whines increase as he curls his fingers, playing with your body like he knows every cord. You pant as his pace increases, feeling his precum leak onto your thigh as you beg and plead for him to just fuck you.

It’s only after what feels like an eternity that he pulls out his fingers and nudges the head of his cock against your entrance. You want to close your eyes, to make sure you feel every sensation, but Tamlin maintains eye contact as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I want to watch your face as you swallow my dick, petal. I want to watch those beautiful eyes tear up from the stretch and pleasure, to feel those little shakes as you take more and more.” He says lowly, kissing you one more time before he starts to thrust into you.

You couldn’t hold the moan in even if an arrow was notched against your head. Your cries bounce off the walls as he sinks deeper and deeper into you, his breaths coming out in pants as he finally bottomed out. His hands fall to your hips, digging into them with his emerging claws as he looks up at you.

The pupils were so round that you could barely see the green in his eyes, his teeth clenching as he pulls out slowly and thrust back up. The sensation pulls out a string of curses, and that is all the encouragement he needs to start fucking you.

He isn’t gentle, not caring that your back was scraping painfully against the cave wall or that his claws were almost piercing your flesh. Tamlin seems to be more beast than man, and you were no better, the wine enhancing everything as you swear you can feel him pulse inside you.

“Yes, yes, fuck right there!” You cry out, arching your back to try and get closer to him.

“That’s it, love, scream for me.” He growls as everything around him sharpens. You could feel something tingle in the back of your mind, like a gentle kiss, but he hits your spot, making your mind go blank.

And you do. You are certain they could hear you all the way in the night court as you feel your cunt tighten around him. Your orgasm had snuck up on you, but now that you were on the edge, you knew it was going to drown you.

Urgency begins to grow between you as he thrusts faster and harder. It was stealing the breath from your lungs as you chant his name, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him into your sweaty chest. Tamlin waste no time in kissing and sucking on your breasts, tugging on your nipples as his own balls start to throb.

“Cum in me, please, Tam,” You whimper, grinding down so that your clit is rubbing against his abs. “Fill me up with your seed, please!”

Before you can even blink, you feel him snap his hips up so sharp that it sends you hurdling over the edge. The tides of pleasure fill your lungs and drag you into darkness as your eyes screw shut, your orgasm so powerful you swear you can feel the ground shake.

And when Tamlin follows right behind you, his teeth connecting to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you actually do feel it shake. It sends the two of you falling down, but he is quick to catch you, cradling your head while continuing to fuck you full of his cum.

He pulls away long enough to roar before he kisses you fiercely, your own blood mingling with his saliva as you slowly start to come down. Tamlin rolls to the side and brings you with him, laying you across his chest while remaining inside you.

The sound of music is the first thing to stir you to look around, realizing the wine is starting to wear off as your gaze falls back to the High Lord. He looks positively sinful, his chest red and sweaty from exertion while his lips hold a playful smile.

“It’s nice to see that again.” You smile, suddenly bashful now that the liquid courage is gone.

“I have a feeling you’ll see a lot more of it in the future.” He responds, brushing away the strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Are you okay?”

You look yourself over, noting the bruises and scrapes, but you know they will heal soon. Mentally, you felt…well, those feelings were better saved for another day. Instead, you nod and rest your head on his chest, not wanting to spoil the moment.

He kisses your head, and when you nuzzle down further, your sensitive sex gives a small clench, and his chest rumbles with a warning.

“What? Are you already ready for round two?” You tease, lifting your chin to look at him.

Tamlin smirks again and pokes his tongue against his cheek, giving a weak thrust inside you so that you can feel him harden.

“You’re in for a long night, petal.”

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throneofsmut · 1 month

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Quiet In The Library

Dorian Havilliard x Female Reader

Description: Dorian finds reader in the Library of Orynth during a visit to Terrasen. Based on this request.

Warnings: Smut !!

Word Count: 893

Author's Note: sorry this took so long 😖 but i hope whoever requested this likes it and i swear im working on the last two requests 😭😭

****

You were standing on the tips of your toes, reaching for a book on a too tall shelf in the Library of Orynth, your fingertips barely brushing against the spine of the book.

Letting out a soft noise of frustration while you silently cursed Aelin for telling you about the spicy novel that was in her personal section of the library.

“Come on.” You muttered angrily to no one in particular under your breath. “Stupid b—“ The quiet curse you were directing at the book is replaced by a loud yelp.

As a tall muscled body pressed you further against the bookshelf. A large hand covering yours as long fingers pulled the book down easily. Swiftly.

He was still crowding you against the books, his chest pressing into your back when he spoke, “How did I know you’d be in here, love.”

You turned around to face him. A hand pressed against your heart that was still pounding. “Dorian, don’t scare me like that!” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Sorry,” he chuckled softly, looking down at you lovingly.

“You say that every time.” He doesn’t respond. His eyes flicking over your face and body and back up to face, making your face heat. You hold your hand out for the book, “can I have my book now?”

Dorian lips set into a small grin when he takes in the furrow of your brows and sensual pink lips that are set in an angry pout. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Let me make it up to you, my love.”

You arch a brow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, “how?”

His grin turns sensual as he grabs ahold of one of your hands and leads both of you deeper, to a more secluded part of the library. You were both close friends to the Queen and King Consort of Terrasen, Aelin and Rowan.

Which is why you both had free rein in the Castle of Orynth, especially in the library, since all three of you—Aelin, Dorian and you—loved books.

Your heart was still pounding but now it was from anticipation. Knowing just how he would make it up to you. Part of you thought he liked to upset you just so he would have an excuse to make it up to you.

He finally stopped next to a corner bookshelf that towered over both of you that was labeled “Fantasy”. Dorian stilled for a few heartbeats, looking, listening if anyone was near and when he was satisfied that no one was he dropped to his knees.

In front of you.

Then a couple seconds later your tunic was pushed up over your tits and your pants were around your ankles. His hands gripped your hips and that was the only warning you got before he parted your wet folds with a flat tongue. “Oh f-fuck!” You moan, your hips rolling at the feeling.

Nipples hardened into peaks to the point of pain as he started pinching and pulling them, while his tongue began to flick and swirl over your swollen clit. Soft moans and whimpers leaving your lips at the feel of every stroke.

Your fingers pull and tug at his hair while your hips grind against his face. Breath hitching as your back arches from pleasure.

Heats pools at the base of your spine as you work your hips faster against his face. Chasing your climax and right when you’re about to reach your peak he pulls back. “Dorian, why did y—“

The words die in your throat when in one swift movement he stands to his full height and buries himself in your soaked cunt. A low groan falling from his lips as your walls clench around his cock. “I haven’t even moved yet and you’re already milking me, love,” he murmurs.

Your only response is a loud sinful moan as his hips set into a deep sensual rhythm. The head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot every time he moves.

He chuckles, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Quiet, love, you’re in the library.” You nod your head, as you bite your bottom lip attempting to stifle your moans.

Without stopping Dorian lifts you—your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he holds you up by your ass. Feeling him impossibly deeper than before at the new angle.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you try to muffle your cries of pleasure. “Oh gods. . . don’t stop! Right there!” The bookshelves digging into your back in the best way with each thrust.

Even his own groans are getting raspier, louder as he fucks you harder. His hold on you, tightening as he chases his own release and yours.

The both of you, so close to the edge of release.

You begin to tremble in his strong arms as the fire in your tummy spreads to your whole body. His pace turning desperate, your back arching as a shattered scream rips through your throat as you climax.

Dorian swallows it greedily with a hungry kiss as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Not a minute later his hips began to stutter and with one last deep thrust his release barrels through him.

His muscles tensing beneath your touch as your walls flutter around his cock, milking every last drop of his cum, as he groans against your neck.

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass smut #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass x yn #throne of glass x you #throne of glass dorian #dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard fanfic #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard x reader smut #dorian havilliard smut #dorian havilliard x yn #dorian havilliard x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #acotar reader fic

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danikamariewrites · 1 month

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My Poor Shadowsinger

Azriel x reader

A/n: I saw this post on twitter of Rogue carrying Gambit and it said ‘can’t let the bros know I’m cool with this’ or something like that. Anyway it immediately made me think of the babying Az hc I wrote and I couldn’t focus on anything else until I wrote this.

Warnings: mentions of injuries

Now that Madja was gone and his brother’s fussing was over Azriel could finally relax. His latest mission was fairly easy, that was until the last day. It’s always the last day. Azriel had won the fight easily, the male who attacked him clearly didn’t know how to fight, just throwing his muscular body around and hoping to land a blow.

Not that Az would admit this but he got cocky, too cocky and the bastard got him with his knife leaving a wide gash across his chest.

As Azriel relaxed into his pillows, letting his eyes finally rest. Of course right at that moment the front door slammed against the wall, followed by your worried voice. Azriel sat up in anticipation of you entering his room. Bursting through the room with Cass and Rhys on your heels you stop on the threshold.

Dropping your bag you rest your hands above your heart, your face contorted in worry. Your eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around his strong chest. “Oh Azzy,” you say breathless. Rhys opens his mouth to tell you Azriel is fine but Cassian grasped his shoulder. The smirk on his face telling Rhys that he wanted to see how this went.

You rush over to his bed, curling up next to him and holding his head to your chest. Placing kisses all over his face and head you sway him gently. “Are you ok baby? I was so scared when Rhys told me you came home hurt.” leaning back you run your hands over his shoulders gently, making sure to not pull at the bandages.

To your surprise Az leaned into you accepting your loving attention. Not caring that his brothers were watching on. Resting his head against your chest again and wrapping his arms around your middle. “I’m ok, it just stings a lot.” You let out a sympathetic sound, running your hands through his dark hair.

“You poor thing. Rhys,” you turn to the High Lord with a slight scowl on your face, “why didn’t you tell me he was in pain?” Cassian and Rhys couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Their jaws open wide in shock. “I-he, are you kidding? He said he was fine! Az even kicked us out because he said ‘stop babying me, I’m a full grown male!’” Rhys complained.

Cassian was speechless. He couldn’t believe his brother was acting this way.

You let out a sound of disgust, untangling yourself from Azriel’s vice like hold. “Lay back Az,” you say in a soft tone, adjusting his pillows so he can be comfortable. “Are you hungry? What can I get you baby?” You coo at him while brushing his hair back from his slightly warm forehead. You click your tongue at the warmth. “Ugh and you’re warm, did Madja give you something to fight off a potential fever?”

Az nods against his pillows, “It’s downstairs will you get it for me? And can I have that sandwich that you always make, with the cold chicken and stuff?” His voice small and a slight pout on his plump lips. “Of course baby. I’ll be right back.” You kiss the pout from his lips and make your way downstairs with a disapproving look at Rhys.

They all watch you leave. Once you’re down the stairs Rhys and Cass walk over to the end of Azriel’s bed. The High Lord places his hands on his hips giving Azriel an exasperated look. “You are unbelievable.” All Azriel does is smirk at his brother, bringing his arms to rest behind his head. “Don’t lie, you let Feyre and Nesta baby you two.” His brothers scoff at the accusation.

“Nesta would never.” Cassian says dramatically. Rhys purses his lips and shakes his head. “Run along now,” Az says teasingly. “Let me enjoy my pampering in peace brothers.” Rhys shakes his head again as the pair laugh while leaving.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel blurb

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 2 days

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 25

Azriel x Reader Fic

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Word Count: 3.2 K

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The House of Wind was shrouded in a somber silence, its grand halls echoing with an emptiness that seemed to seep into every corner, infected by your grief. The once vibrant atmosphere, which you used to imagine was filled with the laughter and life of the family, had dimmed into a hushed stillness.

In a secluded corner, you sat on the balcony of your bedroom, the double doors slightly ajar to let in the cool evening air. The world outside was a muted palette of grays and blues, the winter sky overcast and heavy with an impending storm.

Your eyes were fixed on the distant mountains, vacant and unseeing. Your dress hung loose and wrinkled, the soft fabric draped listlessly over your frame. Your hair, unkempt and tangled, moved gently in the breeze. Your hands lay limply in your lap, fingers cold and still.

The room behind you was dim, heavy curtains drawn tight, casting deep shadows across the polished wood and rich tapestries. The bedside faelight lamp cast a dim glow that barely reached the balcony, where you had taken refuge from the suffocating silence within.

Nesta stood in the doorway to the balcony, her wool shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders, her face a mask of concern and frustration. She had watched your descent into despondency with a growing sense of helplessness, her heart aching for you. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the balcony, her heels clicking lightly on the marble floor. “Y/N?” she called gently, her voice a mix of hope and trepidation. “It’s me, Nesta. Can we talk?”

There was no response. You didn’t move, your gaze still fixed on the horizon. The gentle rustling of the distant wind and the calls of birds were the only sounds on the air.

Nesta approached slowly, her movements careful and deliberate. Reaching the corner of the balcony, she knelt beside you, searching for any sign of recognition. “Y/N, please,” she said softly, her voice breaking slightly. “Say something. Anything.”

Your eyes flickered briefly, a faint shadow of emotion passing over your face, but you remained silent. Your gaze was empty, your expression blank and unreadable. The pain in your eyes was a mirror to the anguish that had taken root deep within you.

Nesta tried again, her voice trembling slightly. “I know you’re hurting, Y/N. I know it feels like the world has ended. But you have to come back to us.”

Still, you did not respond. You were a statue with vacant eyes. Nesta’s frustration bubbled up, mingling with sorrow. She gently took your cold fingers in hers, squeezing them lightly. “Please,” she whispered, her grip tightening. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

Your expression changed slightly, a flicker of something dark crossing your face. Your lips parted, and a faint, bitter laugh escaped you. “Not my fault?” you murmured, voice hoarse and raw. You turned your head to look at Nesta, your eyes flashing with sudden anger. “Of course it’s my fault. I brought him into this. I shouldn’t have tried to run. I should have gone with him. I was a fool to think I could get away.”

Nesta’s eyes widened, taken aback by your response. “Y/N, you did escape.”

Your expression twisted in anguish, your voice rising. “I should have known better than to involve anyone else in this. I put him in danger because I was too scared to just face what I had to. If I’d—” you stammered, searching the horizon, “If I had just gone with Caelum, Kai might still be alive.”

The outburst left the room ringing with a silence heavier than before. Your chest heaved with the force of your emotions, your hands clenching and unclenching in your lap, but you didn’t cry. It was as though you had no more tears left to give.

Nesta’s hand hovered near your arm. “You did the best you could in an impossible situation,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Kai knew the risks, and he made his choice to protect you. You can’t carry this burden alone.”

“I failed.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t keep him out of my head. He wouldn’t have found me if I’d been strong enough to keep him out. And now Kai’s gone because of me.” You stared at Nesta, “I ripped a family apart, stole someone’s child, because I made my problem someone else’s.”

“Y/N, please,” Nesta whispered, “You didn’t fail him. You cared so deeply for him. And he for you. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

The rain started to come down in soft patters, echoing off the marble of the balcony. There was nothing anyone could say to take the weight of the crushing guilt and sorrow you held, so Nesta just sat in a silent vigil, hoping the rain would help cleanse you of your desperation.

---

Days passed with little change. You no longer cried; the well of tears had finally run dry. Instead, you moved with a detached, emotionless grace, as if a vital part of you had been irreparably severed.

Your appearance had become a true reflection of your internal desolation. Your hair, unkempt in tangles, clothing hung looser, wrinkled and carelessly thrown on. You couldn’t care about the trivialities of your existence. Your once vibrant eyes, now dull, were shadowed by dark circles as sleep only came out of necessity.

Nesta continued to try and pull you from your abyss, but every attempt had been met with the same unseeing gaze and mechanical responses. Frustration and sorrow warred within her, a silent battle she fought each day as she watched you drift further away. The old you would have tried to reassure her she was doing enough, that she was helping, but now you just hoped that you would become enough of a burden for them to throw you out to die in the woods.

Elain, ever gentle and nurturing, tried to reach you through small acts of kindness. She would leave flowers by your bedside, brought from varying courts, their colors vibrant in contrast to your graying pallor. She brought tea and warm blankets, her soft voice offering words of comfort and hope. But your hands, cold and listless, never reached for the cup, and Elain continued to replace it day after day.

Azriel’s heart broke for you. He watched over you with a constant, aching sorrow, his eyes always filled with a deep, unspoken pain, his wings seeming to hang behind him more dull and lifeless. He would follow you through the halls, sticking to his shadows, which you learned through overhearing were some strange power he possessed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to ask more. He watched after you, always there, but never truly able to reach you.

In the evenings, when the sky outside turned a deep, mournful gray, and the first stars would appear, you would find yourself on the balcony, staring out at the world beyond the marble railing. The wind would tug at your hair and dress, its chill a distant sensation you barely registered. The vibrant colors of the city below faded out of view as the sun set.

You remained distant, as days turned into weeks, your spirit lost in a fog of grief. You no longer cried, no longer raged or lamented. Instead, you merely moved through the world like a ghost, your emotions locked away in a place no one could reach.

—---

You lay on the lounger outside on the balcony, the chill of late winter seeping into your bones. You would have felt it, had you cared enough.

“Hey,” Azriel said again, calling out as though you might not have heard him.

You gazed over your shoulder, your eyes barely casting over the crest of your brow, sunken and purple. His face softened slightly, not expecting you to regard him at all. He smiled as he pulled at his jacket, coming over to you and kneeling, his hands gently resting on the armrests of the chair.

“Hey,” he smiled again, bouncing back on his heels.

“Hi,” you said back with a meek lilt.

Azriel leaned his head onto the back of his hands, peering up at you. “Did you hear me?” he asked, shaking the black curls from his face.

You nodded, your chin barely moving.

“So?” he asked. “Thoughts?”

You shrugged slightly. You had no intention of ever leaving this chair, this prison you had built for yourself. Brick by brick, heartbreak and failure after heartbreak and failure. This was the world that seemed fitting to waste away in, as you had wasted everyone else. To never enjoy the feeling of the sun, the comfort of others, the will to participate in a world that gave you any sense of purpose or meaning. For you to suffer a miserable, lonely demise as was fitting for the suffering of others. So you shrugged your shoulders, willing to go with him to give him a sense of fleeting happiness in his long life or to have him leave you here forever, with the hope that without enough sleep or sitting in the cold, you might finally be willing to part with yourself.

Azriel seemed to understand your meaning, smiling gently and pleading with you for a way to pull you out. He reached his hand down for yours, wrapping your ice-cold fingers with his warm hands. “I think it could be good for you,” he said softly, bouncing slightly on his heels.

You blinked slowly, trying to absorb his words, which came out as if spoken in slow motion. Azriel merely looked at you as you paused, long and drawn out. He ran his hand over the back of his chilled red nose, sniffled for a second, and then rose, your hand still in his though your arm was limp in his grasp.

“We have to try something,” he said. You had no plans of getting better.

He pulled you slightly, and your legs slipped over the side of the lounger with almost no thought. You stood, the cold deeply sinking into your feet. Your steps were wary, as you hadn’t put any thought into moving them in days, and you felt as weak as the female you were before you left your mate in the first place.

Azriel wrapped a stabilizing arm around your waist, holding you close, his body braced against yours. You felt his nose graze the crown of your head as if he were nuzzling you, though you knew it was just from that slight sniffle.

“We need to get your face washed,” he whispered, his nose finding your hair again.

You didn’t respond as you stood in front of the bathroom door. Azriel let you stand on your own as he walked in and turned on the faucet. He stared back at you, your eyes widening slightly.

Azriel reached a tentative hand out to you, summoning you with a gentle flick of his fingers. You gulped back the fear in your soul and took a step forward, your hand gliding into Azriel’s.

He gripped it tightly, pulling you closer. “That’s it,” he encouraged.

Your eyes still wide, he reached behind himself, grabbing a facial rag. He dropped your hand as he ran it under the water of the sink, turning back to you immediately as he wrung it out.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered as your eyes continued to widen. He leaned his hands in slowly, one scarred palm finding its way to your cheek, while the other ran long lines with the rag down your face. He didn’t look into your eyes, instead focusing only on the places he wiped the dirt away, as if worried that leaving any speck would mar what was underneath. You watched his methodical eyes, your own weak, tired gaze following his every move. Finally, he ran the last swipe down your face and caught you looking at him. He smiled. “Hi,” he whispered, smiling back at you, seeming so happy that you were looking at him at all.

Your gaze widened at him slightly, and you quickly looked down and away. Azriel’s smile flattened slightly as your own face fell.

“This is a great start,” Azriel noted. “Are you sure you’re feeling up for going out?” he asked again.

You shrugged once more.

“Y/N,” Azriel said. You didn’t respond. “Y/N, if you don’t want to do anything, you don’t have to,” he said. He momentarily reached his hand out to comfort you but seemed to pull back slightly as you watched his hand cross the threshold in front of you.

You merely shrugged your shoulders again. Azriel seemed unsure of how to approach the situation and scanned your face as if trying to see through your nonchalance. When he found no other answers, he just sighed slightly, setting the wet rag back onto the counter.

“We should get you a coat,” he said. As though he had summoned it from thin air, a woolen gray coat appeared. He looked it over in his hands and then handed it out to you. At first, you just stared at it lying in his palms before taking it and sliding it onto your shoulders.

Azriel gave you another slight smile, his hand reaching out for yours.

“Come on,” he said, brushing past you and out to the balcony. You walked slowly behind him, not bothering to button the coat. Azriel went to the edge and peered over his shoulder back at you. You joined him, the crown of your head barely coming up to his shoulder.

You looked down onto Velaris. Winter had seemed to give up its hold, just for a bit. Some citizens below even walked around the streets in just sweaters, and it appeared some brave gardeners were starting their soil preparations. You reached your hand out for Azriel to winnow, but he gently pushed it back.

“If you’re comfortable,” he began, “I was thinking we could fly instead.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

Azriel flexed his wings slightly behind him, turning to look at you. “Well, only if you’re comfortable doing that.”

You tilted your head slightly. “I think I don’t understand what you mean.”

Azriel glanced over his shoulder, as though you might have missed the gigantic wings that shrouded him. “I mean fly.”

You peered around the balcony slightly.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“Is there, like, a saddle?”

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly. “A what?”

Your eyes stopped back on his, suddenly embarrassed by the question. Slightly quieter, you asked, “A saddle?”

“Why would—” Azriel stammered. “No, no, I’m just going to carry you.”

“Ohh.”

“Unless you aren’t okay with that? I just figured since winnowing gave you a headache and we don’t have anywhere in particular to be, this would be easier.”

You peered slightly over the edge of the balcony, down the steep drop of the mountainside cliff house into Velaris, where the fae were barely visible. You turned back to him, your mouth dropping from the sheer distance to the ground.

Azriel seemed to understand your hesitancy as your eyes widened at him. “I promise, I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“I would hope not,” you responded.

“I’ve done this with others before; there’s no reason to be afraid.”

You scoffed, “All of those people are still alive?”

Azriel took a second, looking up at the sky for the answer. When he didn’t immediately respond, you almost shouted, “You shouldn’t have to think about that!”

Azriel’s face flashed back to yours, “No! Everyone is still alive,” he reassured you.

You merely peered back over the edge of the balcony.

“Look,” Azriel called, and you shot your gaze back to him, “The second you don’t feel comfortable, we come right back here,” he promised. “And that means for both flying and being down in the streets.”

You gulped the fear back down and looked back at him. His hazel eyes seemed so much lighter now than they were a few days ago. He extended his hands to you, outstretched, and seemed to send a silent plea for you to take a few steps towards him. Without seeming conscious of it, you suddenly stood in front of him as he smiled down at you. He leaned down, and you placed a tentative hand on his shoulder as he swept your legs up at the knee into a hold, his hands supporting your shoulders. A light yelp escaped your lips as he lifted you, and your startled response made him chuckle deep in his chest—a warm, encouraging chuckle.

“Just say the word,” he said, and you nodded, wrapping your other arm around his neck. Without another word, Azriel’s great wings took a few warm-up flaps before his feet left the ground with a bit of a hop. You tightened into his chest, his warmth seeping through his own jacket as your heart leapt into your throat. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’re safe.”

You opened one eye slightly to gaze out. You hadn’t even flown to the edge of the balcony as Azriel hovered over

the floor. You looked up to meet his gaze, and he smiled at your apparent nerves. “Remember,” he started, “Say the word, and we come back.”

You licked your lips slightly, trying to gauge if you went over that railing if you would ever be able to slow down your heart rate, but when you turned back to Azriel, you just nodded.

Azriel leaned slightly forward, allowing his wings to take some greater flaps, and then you were off over the railing. As you took in the steep drop, you shrieked lightly, the world suddenly seeming dizzy as Azriel pulled you tighter to himself. “It’s okay,” he said as he leaned forward, descending the mountain in a long glide. You found the bravery to unclench your eyes and saw the sunset over the sea, the clouds parting to let an array of oranges and reds burn across the sky. Your heart stopped in your throat, not in fear, but in awe of the beauty you beheld.

Azriel glided down, barely moving his wings at all, as you seemed to make a slow descent into the city. His arms barely flexed under your weight as he cradled you with such delicacy. The cool wind flew through your hair, and you were suddenly very glad Azriel had found you a coat. You took in the tops of the city buildings as you neared, the church bell tower steeple adorned with a small moon at the top, something you would never have seen from this angle. You wondered who else in Velaris might have the power of flight, other than Illyrian soldiers.

You turned back to Azriel, trying to watch the House of Wind getting smaller behind you, but realized that Azriel was staring at your face, smiling slightly. You then realized that your own mouth was open in awe, a smile leaking from the corners. The muscles ached after not being in use, and you quickly wiped the evidence of it from your face. Azriel just continued to smile down at you, as if seeing your smile again was a gift.

The flight was over seemingly before it started, and you could hear the ambient voices of citizens echoing as Azriel righted himself and took a tentative step down onto a metal rooftop, setting you down on your feet. When you brushed yourself off and looked back at him, he was still only looking at you and smiling.

To my readers, I am on vacation this week but am still trying to get some writing done. Just be aware in case parts are late, they are coming!

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreamsoydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterrara @skylarkalchemistmist @rhysandorian @loglady1990dy00 @darling006

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shadowdaddies · 2 months

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Distraction

Azriel x Reader

A/N: I keep thinking about how this scene from Captain America: the Winter Soldier would fit so well for Azriel x reader on a spy mission

warnings: none

A knock on your door shook you from your daze, wide eyes alert in a prepared defense until you heard the familiar voice rumble lowly through the wooden doorway.

“Are you ready?” Azriel questioned, rough voice sending an unrecognizable thrill through you as you strode towards the door. Turning the handle, you looked up to see hazel eyes darkening as the striking Illyrian swallowed, gaze raking over your form in the fitted dress you’d donned for the evening.

“Ready, Az,” you nodded, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of admiring your friend’s appearance. He was dressed in a fitted all-black ensemble, tailored to show his impressive physique and highlight his features. He looked like a Prince of Darkness as he stepped to the side, holding out an arm for you to take.

“You look very nice, Azriel,” you smiled, playfully nudging him with your shoulder as he led you down the hall to the grand ballroom.

He stiffened slightly at your words, as though shocked by the compliment, before he turned to face you. “You look...” he paused, taking a deep breath when he stepped back to look at you. Something sparked in your chest when he spoke again. “You look beautiful.”

Nodding, you looked away in an attempt to hide your blush as well as Azriel had hidden his shadows for the evening. You were both undercover from the Night Court, attending this ball in Hybern to find information on potential traitors.

Since the war was won, Prythian had absorbed the kingdom of Hybern, but many were still resistant to the ideals of the Continent. You were sent with Azriel to the new ruler of Hybern’s birthday celebration to gather intel, searching for those who might pose a threat to the High Lord and Lady’s restructured kingdom.

With Azriel’s shadows, he would be quickly identified as the infamous shadowsinger of the Night Court, but with his shadows hidden and you by his side, you could blend in with the other fae relatively easily.

Which is why you now carried your shimmering skirts, shoes clicking down the marble floored halls with Azriel on your arm. You had expected to be more nervous going into the event, but something about Azriel’s touch kept you grounded, feeling calmer than ever.

Approaching the double doors that led to the grand ballroom, you nodded your appreciation to the guards who opened the doors for you both. Words escaped you at the beauty of the room before you, murals of fairies from old lining the walls along with gilded chandeliers and twinkling faelight. It was beautiful and romantic, a far cry from what you had imagined Hybern to be.

Feeling a tug on your arm, you looked up to see Azriel flashing you a knowing grin as he guided you towards a servant. Picking up two drinks from their tray, he murmured appreciation to them before handing you a glass. You half-expected him to say something about the beauty of the evening, but surprise didn’t find you with his words.

“Remember our story. Keep it vague and learn what you can tonight,” Azriel murmured, his warm hand rubbing affectionately on your waist at odds with his words. You nodded, remembering your role new mates as your role for the night, and that his touch meant nothing more.

Twining your fingers with his, you led Azriel to a couple who stood by the hearth, smiling as they both listened to the band play its lively tune. You chatted with them, learning the gossip about several royal families who did not approve of the new structure in Hybern.

“Well done,” Azriel murmured, his lips warm against your knuckles as he pulled them, twirling you in a playful move across the dance floor closer to the next target for intel.

You wished the giggle that escaped you was more effort than it was, but something about you was truly drawn to Azriel. He was gentle with you, but fiercely defensive of those he cared for. A skilled warrior and good friend.

Swallowing, you willed your emotions beneath the surface to plaster on your face of grace. Swiping another glass of faerie wine, you focused on the faux feelings you’d manufactured for the evening, ignoring those you really felt towards Azriel as best you could.

You were deep in conversation, laughing and joking with the female visiting from Vallahan when Azriel’s fingers tensed around your waist. Feigning ignorance, you smiled lazily at your “mate.”

“Is everything alright, my love?” You asked - the question you’d planned beforehand if anything unplanned were to arise.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you, more wild than you had ever seen his bright hazel eyes. “I am just aching for a dance with my mate, is all,” he purred, teasing voice betraying the shaking fingertips that hovered your hips.

With audible “awws” and cooing at two new mates who couldn’t resist to be apart, the other fae ushered you towards the busy dance floor, where Azriel took your hand and waist, back held in surprisingly impressive form.

“I know the male in the opposite corner from where I face,” Azriel whispered in your ear, soft as if he were telling you sweet nothings. You ignored the hitch in your breath, gaze flicking briefly to a tall, burly male in the corner whose own eyes flicked to Azriel with curiosity.

“Come with me,” you whispered back, not missing how Azriel shivered at your lips on his ear. He followed you, hands loosely intertwined while you wove through the crowd towards the dark corner of the room opposite from the suspecting male.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the male moved through the ballroom, gaze scanning the crowd including yourselves as though he were looking for someone.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, pulling Azriel’s body tight against your own, which was pressed to the cold wall.

“W-what?” he choked out, and you had to bite back your grin at the uncharacteristically flustered spymaster.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. Kiss me,” you demanded, willing yourself not to look to the presence you could sense nearing you.

Azriel’s eyes practically glowed as he searched your face, searching for affirmation before one hand found your waist, the other wrapping around the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a deep kiss.

An electric energy shot through you, the spark hitting your chest hard enough to steal your breath at the feeling of his soft lips on your own. You melted into the kiss with ease, both of your bodies interlacing like two halves of a whole.

You were dizzy for air, completely forgetting everyone else around you when Azriel pulled away, his eyes wide with something that looked like shock.

Pushing back, you scanned the area for potential threats before deciding you couldn’t find anything. “Azriel, what happened? Are you okay?” You whispered, thumb stroking his cheek to keep up the charade of new mates.

“I- you’re my...” Azriel stuttered, just as you caught sight of the suspicious male slipping out onto the balcony.

“Come on, Az. Let’s see what they’re up to,” you whispered, keeping a note in your mind to ask him what he was distracted by at a later time.

Part 2

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 6 months

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Game over

Part I

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: some hot scenes to come so be ready, nothing obscene tho (I'd love to but can't write "porn"😬); kind of slutty Azriel, swearing

You walked down the hallway towards Cassian's room, your eyes puffed from crying for hours. You prayed to Mother to find him alone. You needed him desperately. Cassian was your best friend, knowing all your secrets, even the one about your feelings for Azriel. He was the only one who volunteered to go with two of you on missions making a wall between you, comforting you after each argument. And now he almost paid with own life for his kindness.

Instead of knocking you eavesdropped behind his door, but except of Cassian's snoring room was silent. Carefully opening the door you peeked in. Cassian was fast asleep, bandaged wings spread on the bed. He was alone. You let out sigh of relief.

Quietly you stalked to his bed and sat on the edge of mattress. Gently caressing his hand you curled to his side. You were afraid to touch him, not wanting to cause him more pain. "I'm so so sorry, Cass," you sobbed. Snoring stopped and he moved slightly.

"Oh, doll, it's you," he groaned, voice hoarse.

"I didn't want to wake you up," you tried to hide your tears.

"Don't worry. I wanted to see you anyway. I'm glad you came."

"How do you feel?"

His big hand landed on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "I'm high from the Madja's medicaments," he chuckled and you did so, too. He always knew how to make you smile. "Are you okay? Rhys was quite angry when he came yesterday."

"Hmm." You still needed to talk about it, but seeing his state you couldn't bring yourself to bother him with your problems.

"Hey, doll, look at me."

"Everything is fine," you lied.

"C'mon, show me your face," he patted on your shoulder. Reluctantly you obeyed. "I can see you cried. What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"Rhys was mad, but he did nothing to me. He just scolded me.."

"And?" his brows raised.

You let out a breath avoiding his gaze. "And closed me in his office together with Azriel," you muttered.

"What?!" Cassian tried to sit up, but pain in his back and wings prevented him from doing so. Grimacing he lay down again. "Is he crazy? Why? I'll give him piece of my mind when I see him next time. What happened after that?"

"Well, he said he won't let us out until we solve our problems," you explained, tears again stinging your eyes.

"You are out so.." Cassian encouraged you to continue.

"Azriel came with an idea how to make him let us go." First tear rolled down your cheek.

Cassian rubbed root of his nose. "What that idiot did to you?" He knew you so well, you didn't have to tell a single word and he knew what's on your mind. Sometimes it was quite scary.

"He came with plan to pretend we are in love and kissed me in front of Rhysand.." you sobbed.

"Doll.." he again rubbed your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You shook your head. "I can't.. do that.. It all returned.. and.. I can't.. It hurts.."

Cassian drew you closer, hugging you as much as he could in his state. "I'm so sorry, doll.. But.. You don't have to do it.. If you want I'll talk with him."

"If Rhysand finds out we lied, next time he might also lock us at a cell.."

Cassian's lips pulled into a thin line, but he didn't say anything else, holding you and rubbing on your back while you cried yourself to sleep.

Azriel was wandering around the House, feeling of discomfort heavy on his chest. He didn't like the way your conversation ended up that morning and he didn't want to accept that his plan was over before he actually could act up to it. He tried to visit Y/N in her bedchamber, but she wasn't there. Everything felt off, so he sent the shadows to look for her. They guided him to Cassian's room, whispering to his ear.

Azriel didn't bother with knocking because as he was informed persons inside were fast asleep. Quiet like a cat he crept in, standing beside the bed. What he saw there made his insides twist with pain and anger.

Cassian laid in the bed with spread wings just like the other day, snoring. And there under his arm curled to his side was Y/N, their scents mixing together. He noticed their smell many times before, but he'd never witnessed it. Jealousy stabbed his heart like poisoned dagger, his teeth gritting in frustration.

Mine. Mine. Mine!

His breath quickened, brows furrowed, anger dripping from him. His fingers entwined around the Truth-teller. Shadowsinger wouldn't let anybody have what belonged to him, what he desired the most.

The shadows emerged in, blinding him and pushing him back to the door.

'Stop. Calm down. You will regret it. Brother. Family.' They hissed.

Azriel took few shuddering breaths. Okay, he wouldn't go so far. But he couldn't leave them like this either. He fixed his expression.

"Love, here you are," he shouted pretending he just came in. Both Cassian and Y/N woke up with a start.

"What the hell," Cassian groaned, pulling Y/N closer. Wide-eyed she looked up at Azriel.

"I was worried. I looked for you everywhere," Azriel continued his performance. He pulled on her arm, tearing her from the embrace, just to hold her close to his chest. She was about to say something, but he wouldn't let her and quickly kiss her on the lips. Azriel gave all his pain and jealousy into the kiss making it rough and needy. And Y/N reacted the same way as in front of Rhysand. Her knees gave out. Satisfied Azriel pulled away. He watched with delight as all kinds of emotions flashed across her face, especially enjoying the blush of her cheeks.

"What are you doing?" Cassian grunted, snapping him out of his observation.

Azriel turned to him. "Love, you haven't told him yet?"

"No need to pretend, Az. I know everything," Cassian rolled his eyes. Azriel turned back to Y/N, searching her face. So she told him? But why? What was between the two of them?

"I want to talk to you," Cassian said.

"Would you leave us alone, dove," Azriel traced her jaw with scarred finger. She inhaled sharply turning to Cassian.

"Cass.."

"Don't worry, doll," he grinned at her. Eyeing them she backed out from the room closing the door behind. But she didn't leave. Instead she stayed behind the door listening.

Azriel smirked as Cassian narrowed eyes on him. "What kind of game are you playing?" he asked quietly, aware that Y/N hadn't left.

"Not your business."

"I swear. If you hurt her I'll beat the shit out of you."

Azriel studied his face. "You feel something to her." It wasn't question.

"What if I do? Would you let her be?"

Azriel crossed arms on his chest. "No."

"Do you hate her so much that you want to destroy her?" Azriel winced.

"I'm not planning to destroy her."

"So what do you want from her?" Cassian snapped angrily.

"Not. Your. Business," Azriel growled.

They stared at each other trying to second guess the opponent. Azriel let out a breath after a while. Brother. My brother, he reminded himself.

"I don't want to hurt her, so don't worry," he said way softer than he really felt, turning to leave. "I would really appreciate if you stay away from her," he growled leaving the room. An amused snort sounded from behind as he was closing the door.

Corners of Azriel's mouth turned up in a smile as he looked to the place where Y/N was waiting, right next to the door.

"What did you talk about?" she asked coolly.

He stepped closer cornering her. "About you," he smiled even wider, hazel eyes capturing hers.

"What about me?"

"Hmm," he purred teasingly leaning in so he could feel her breath on his lips. Having her so close soothed his jealousy for good.

She just stood there pinned to the wall under his body, her heart racing. She wouldn't run away before getting answers. Fearless little thing. He liked it and finally he didn't have to hide it. Closing eyes he nuzzled his cheek to hers, drawing a soft moan from her.

"What will you give me if I tell you?" His deep voice sensually whispered to her ear and she shivered in pleasure biting down on her lip, unable to think straight. So hot, so sweet. He wanted to devour her right there on the spot, slowly, enjoying every inch of her. It took all his determination just to stand there, not touching her.

He needed to leave otherwise he would destroy everything. "Try to stay away from Cassian and his room, dove, would you?" he cooed, delivering sweet, light kiss on her lips. Her knees wobbled.

"It would look bad if somebody notice," he said over a shoulder walking down the hall, away from temptation.

After he left, Y/N let out a breath. Without anybody holding her upright she sank to the ground, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to jump from her chest and chase after the cause of this all. Why did he have such effect on her?

After the encounter in Cassian's room you didn't know what to think anymore. You heard just very little of their conversation and couldn't make anything out of it. Only one thing was clear: Azriel kept pretending to be in love with you without flaw whether somebody watched or no.

He kept touching you at any occasion he had. From feather like touches to passionate hugs, from his lips lightly teasing your skin to deep, needy kisses. Shadowsinger went so far that he was leaving flowers and small presents for you all around the house. It was so confusing.

In front of your friends you couldn't run nor push him away. You struggled every time he appeared close to you. Your heart ached and thrilled at the same time. You had to constantly remind yourself that he faked it. That none of that was real. However your heart didn't listen at all. It hurt so badly. Every day that passed in this manner was a torture and you tried to spend as much time in your room alone as possible.

One morning you woke up with a wing around you, dim light shining through. A strong arm was wrapped around your waist and your back was pressed against male's chest. At first you thought you fell asleep with Cassian. After all it wouldn't be the first time you slept like this.

As your brain started to work again, you stiffened. Last night you fell asleep alone in your room. The body behind you was muscular, but it was rather athletic while Cassian's body was more like a bear. Drops of cold sweat appeared on your forehead and your heart stuttered as realization hit you.

It was Azriel.

You swallowed, your heartbeat was rising with every second you stayed in this position. You didn't know what to do. You wanted to shove him away, but you also longed to stay like this in his arms for the rest of your life. You didn't dare to move.

Azriel behind you didn't move, too, seemingly asleep. However you could feel his heartbeat on your back, speed of it matching your own. And you felt it poking to the back of your thigh. Air became heavy with the smell of arousal.

The wing retracted letting morning light and fresh cold air in.

"'morning," Azriel groaned to your ear, voice still hoarse. Your panties got even wetter.

You forced yourself to retreat to the other side of bed. "What are you doing here?" you tried to sound confident and cool, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

Reclining Azriel smirked obviously satisfied with the way your body reacted to him. Your mouth went dry. He was so... Beautiful? Sexy? No word could adequately describe him.

His dark hair was messy from sleep, smirking full lips slightly parted and eyes.. Those eyes. Soft morning light turned his hazel eyes into liquid gold. Shadowsinger was in your bed looking like a god, toned chest on display. You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"You are drooling, dove," he chuckled moving closer. His thumb ran over your lower lip teasingly. He was wearing just an underwear, his arousal still visible.

Instincts you gained over years kicked in, though you were too high. "Cover yourself," you moaned. Damnit.

Azriel leaned closer, his lips only inch from yours. "This is what you do to me. Don't you like it?" Thumb of his other hand caressed your thigh too close to your sex. You gasped, eyes going wide. Azriel's pupils blew out, gaze darkening, his scent changing once again.

You needed to cool down otherwise you could do something you would regret in the future. You tried to stand up, but Azriel stopped you.

"Beautiful," he murmured against your lips, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft, playful at first, slowly heating up. He pulled you back down to the sheets, lightly crushing you under his body. His scarred hand grabbed your thigh and massaging it he hooked your leg around his hips.

No, your brain shouted while your heart was growing with every touch he provided. This was so wrong. You found the strength and pushed against his chest. Panting Azriel reluctantly obeyed. He gave you a questioning look.

"What's wrong, dove?"

"Stop it," a tear rolled down your cheek, followed by another soon. Tip of his fingers gently wiped it away. He was confused. "Stop it. Stop this pretending. It's too much. I can't-"

"Who said I'm pretending?" he whispered softly, studying your face with unreadable expression.

"You came with this plan to pretend in front of everyone.."

"Game is over, dove. It's actually never started. At least for me it wasn't game," Azriel sat up bringing you with him.

You were too confused. "What do you mean? What is this all about?"

Azriel hesitated. "I heard you," he breathed out, his eyes never leaving yours. His deep voice was so quiet you barely heard him. "That night at Rhys' office. You talked in your sleep. For years I couldn't tell you how I really feel, thinking you hate me. It was easier to hate you back than admit I want you. So I took advantage of the situation Rhysand got us into and decided to show you instead. I guess it wasn't the best way.."

Something in your chest warmed up and grew with every word he spoke. "It wasn't game," you repeated, trying to put your thoughts together. You replayed all events, touches and kisses of the last weeks seeing it in new light. You could literally hear wards around your heart crack. He didn't pretend it. None of that.

You searched his eyes looking for traces of lie just to find out it was truth. Your hand moved on its own accord, resting on his cheek. Azriel leaned into the touch closing his eyes for a moment.

"No pretending?"

"Not even once," he shook his head. All suppressed feelings crashed out like a wave breaking last of the walls you built around your heart. You threw yourself around his neck almost knocking him down to blankets, squeezing him as you cried. Shadowsinger groaning with effort to stay upright, hugging you back.

"Az," you sobbed.

"Yes, angel," Azriel rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"You are such idiot," you playfully tugged on his hair.

"I know," he chuckled. "Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?"

You snorted. "It won't be easy."

"I love challenges." With that he started nipping at your neck slowly moving up to the sensitive spot under your ear.

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